


My Sister's Boy

by propheticfire



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Barius is Viren's uncle, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Up, Headcanon, Jelly Tarts, Vignette, familial relations, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propheticfire/pseuds/propheticfire
Summary: Barius the Baker watches his nephew grow up.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	My Sister's Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a crack headcanon that Barius is Viren's uncle, apropos of nothing except they both have the same voice actor. It started with some silly thoughts on tumblr, but then I wrote this, which turned out more serious than I anticipated.

I remember like it was yesterday, my sister’s boy came running into the kitchen to say he’d made a new friend, and the friend was a _prince._ “And he likes birds and animals and he took me to the top of the tower and I could see _everything!”_ he said, swiping a jelly tart off the cooling table. I scolded him for taking the tart, but I softened it with, “Your mother would have my head if I let your hands get burned. Wrap it in cloth first.” And I gave him another tart. He beamed at me. “Thank you, Uncle Barius!” he yelled as he scampered back out the door.

I remember my sister’s boy, a young teenager, sliding into the kitchen when my back was turned, when he thought I wouldn’t notice, to quietly wrap up a jelly tart. Not quiet enough, though; I could hear the sniffles of stifled tears. I thought he would leave, but he lingered there a while. Finally, in a small voice, he said, “I miss them.” Nearly broke my heart. I missed them too, of course. My sister and her husband, taken too soon from this world. “I miss them too,” was all I could say, my voice cracking.

I remember later that day, my sister’s boy came to me to tell me that his friend the Prince had offered to let him stay in the castle for a while, if he wanted. “I think that’s a fine idea, my boy!” I encouraged. “Do you some good to get out of this dreary house. Just don’t forget to come visit your Uncle Barius once in a while, huh?” And he smiled and promised he wouldn’t forget.

I remember when my sister’s boy got married. He looked so handsome, dressed in regalia that his parents or I could never have afforded. He beamed at his bride with besotted eyes, and she returned the gaze in kind. His friend the Prince stood by as Best Man. I was so proud. After the ceremony, during the celebration, he wrapped me in a friendly hug and thanked me for bringing my famous jelly tarts to the feast. “Of course!” I told him. “Anything for my favorite nephew.” To which he pointed out that he was my _only_ nephew. We laughed.

I remember the day my sister’s boy came to tell me that his wife left him. I hadn’t seen him in several years. Quite a few, actually. It gets like that. People get older and raise children and have busy lives, and they don’t always have time for everything. But I welcomed him in as if no time had passed at all. He didn’t tell me why they’d split, and I didn’t ask. I just gave him a fresh tart, like old times, and patted his shoulder when the tears came.

I remember hoping that I’d see my sister’s boy when I brought my jelly tarts to the castle, to honor the young Prince Ezran’s coronation as King. He reminded me so much _of_ my sister’s boy, when he’d been that age. Same tart-stealing tendency, and insufferably precious face. But I didn’t see my nephew. I hadn’t seen him for a very long time.

I remember that my sister’s boy had once been so full of light and life and laughter. But watching him now, riding out with the whole of the Katolian army at his back, with the host of soldiers from every corner of the five kingdoms, I know that he’s changed. I know that there’s a darkness over him now. And I don’t agree with his course of action. But I still wish—I _still wish_ —I could hand him a jelly tart, for the road. Fresh from the oven. Wrapped in a soft cloth. And he’d take it and look at me and say, “Thank you, Uncle Barius.” And I’d look back at him and say, “You’re welcome, Viren. Anything for my sister’s boy.”


End file.
